I found my identity in a college library one summer morning. I had just turned seventeen, and was sweating it out at an honors program in south Georgia, making generous use of the library’s Ethernet in my best attempt to avoid the humidity and a confrontation with my social awkwardness. This was 1997, when I could still use the Internet as a place to hide. I’d already created my first homepage—a monstrosity of blue text/black background with winking stars and smiley faces everywhere—but when I went deeper into my study of the personal website, I discovered something amazing: journals.
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